


Prometheus Brings the Fire

by Carolinecalflo



Category: Les Miserables, Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Halloween, My First Fanfic, in response to a post, sociological effects of Halloween and stuff like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carolinecalflo/pseuds/Carolinecalflo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is forced to test social standards this Halloween when Eponine visits the flat along with a Sexy Nurse costume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prometheus Brings the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This comes in response to a post by coolfeyrad that said "is it bad that i want to write enjolras in a sexy nurse costume for halloween?" which can be found below.  
> It's also my first fic, so, help me out here :)  
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Link to post:  
> arthurisagoodnameforahorse.tumblr.com/post/63166665217

It started with Eponine returning from a four hour trip to Party City. Enjolras and Joly sat eating multigrain maple pecan cereal in freshly washed bowls when she burst through the front door in a frenzy, pulling a crumpled plastic bag behind her. Joly jumped in shock, his back being to the furious girl, and Enjolras just stared, mouth agape and a pecan teetering haphazardly on his lower lip.

“Fucking ridiculous! That’s what it is. Insanity, and sexism and it’s just so goddamn _offensive_. I mean, I don’t give a shit if that’s what you _choose_ , be a slutty bunny for all I care, but for Christ _sake_ -“ Eponine whipped the thin Party City bag across the freshly scrubbed kitchen counter and took a shuttering breath. “Are you eating my cereal?” She whispered, staring into Enjolras’ stunned eyes. He licked the loose pecan into his mouth and swallowed, staring from the bowl to Eponine and back again.

“What’s in the bag?” Grantaire piped up curiously. He’d snuck into the kitchen during the girl’s entrance, and was now holding the cereal box in one paint stained hand, and cupping a handful of multigrain maple pecan cereal to his mouth with the other. “This tastes like shit.” He added, half heartily, before popping the rest of the handful into his mouth, and wiping the crumbs off onto his black jeans.

“You wanna know what’s in the bag? The last straw, the latest offence of this patriarchal crap, R.” Eponine picked up the bag and tossed it to R which he caught awkwardly with his left hand. “I was desperate, and that’s what they _want_ me to be. Desperate. Fucking corporations.” Eponine huffed before taking Joly’s bowl in hand and slurping down half the bowl’s contents. The boy’s throat fluttered and he pushed the bowl back to Eponine, as if suddenly ill.

Grantaire began laughing, deep and hearty. “Naughty Nurse?!”

“They didn’t even have a doctor option. If they’re going to force girls to be exposed for men’s pleasure, at least eliminate the glass ceiling!” Eponine rested her head on her propped hand and sighed. “I don’t really have an option, though, do I? The party’s tonight, and Mar… er, and I don’t have time to get anything else.”

Enjolras bit his lip and took Joly’s warning glances as signs not to begin his rehearsed rant about promiscuity, capitalism and messages of a post-modern Halloween. He struggled. He failed, “Eponine, I totally agree-“

“How kind of you!” Grantaire shouted, a shit-eating smile on his face. He wrapped an arm around Enjolras and pushed Enj’s empty cereal bowl to the other side of the counter so he could settle his other elbow on the shiny granite. “We _all_ know that Eponine’s second choice, after a doctor, of course, would be to dress as Prometheus, which, coincidentally, is the exact outfit hanging in your room right now! _Woah_! Look at that.” He ruffled Enjolras’ hair and staggered off toward the rumpled bag he’d thrown back at Eponine. He held up the white skirt, heels and other accessories with shining eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure she’d love that, R, but she just bought that,” Enjolras gulped, suddenly unsure on how to debate, “nice outfit there, and I spent _five weeks_ on the Prometheus outfit, who was a _man_ , I’m sure Ponine wouldn’t want to take that away from me. Right?” Enjolras gave Grantaire a look that could melt off a poor kid’s skin. Luckily for Grantaire, he was looking a bit lower than Enjolras’ eyes.

“Well, my friend, we both know you’d be better off as Apollo, leave this progress and civilization shit behind you. But since the party’s tonight, and you’d be delivering an impressive,” Grantaire took a deep breath, scanning, and licked his lower lip before continuing, “message by dressing as a stereotypical women’s costume, while this charming young lady went as a strong male titan, I’m really thinking the doctor-“

“Slutty Nurse,” Eponine shot in.

Grantaire rolled his eyes and continued. “I’m really thinking the medical care outfit would be the best decision for you.” _For all of us_ , he added silently.

The room was quiet for several moments as Enjolras fumed, staring at the floor, and the other three students exchanged glances. “No.” He snapped, whipping his head up, shaking his curls and allowing them to bounce at the base of his neck.

“ _Please_ , Enj, please? I would really appreciate it. You know, I wrote my thesis on the Titans, and I’ve seen your costume, it would fit really well, with help from a few safety pins, and, please?” Eponine leaned across the cool counter with her chest and torso stretching, flat against the surface to get closer to the boy.

Enjolras avoided Eponine’s eyes, and groaned while shaking his head around a bit. He wasn’t normally a push over, well, he was never a push over, but if Eponine began her spiel about how, as a child, her family couldn’t afford costumes, and she went as a ghost every year, and…

“Enjolras, you know, Azelma and I…”

“No, no, no, no.” He slammed his fist onto the counter and regretted it, feeling his bones creak in pain immediately. He flexed his long fingers, concerned, and then grabbed the messy assortment of accessories and barely-clothes, piling them into his arms. He rushed out of the room, leaving his friends hopeful and a little confused.

 

The stilettos were bright red and three and a half inches tall. Enjolras was becoming sure Eponine had bought them second hand, because they would have been much less tottery at an non-sawed 5 inches, though nothing could help Enjolras from teetering so much. Maybe Grantaire’s shoulder, but Enj wasn’t going to admit to that.

The socks reached up to his knees. Bleached white with a little frill, they were an absurdly pleasant contrast to his blond leg hair, which stuck out through the lace. Eight inches higher on his leg was the lowest seam of a starched, and equally white, miniskirt. Even his shortest and whitest boxer briefs failed to go unnoticed underneath, he was beginning to blush. Luckily he had the figure of a teen, because the top only got worse. His carved abdominals were only accented by the figure fitting blouse top, though two of the buttons threatened to pop, much to the group’s atheistic pleasure. The chest was obviously unfilled, and this added a comical, versus the previously disconcertingly arousing, aspect to the costume, but his shoulders, and most notably, clavicle, brought the eyes back to a state of interest.

Eponine had been called into his room half an hour before the party began, and scurried out, only to return with her bag of toiletries and a smile on her face. A bright and sparkling red lipstick, titled Burn, was chosen for his innocent cupids bow lips. Mascara, eyeliner, blush and eye shadow were added accordingly. No need for cover-up. And atop Enjolras’ pile of golden curls sat a paper hat, perched, slightly skewed, it was a crown to finish the beautiful sight. Altogether, he was quite a sight, and quite the source of entertainment for Les Amis.

Taking a deep breath, and wishing he were a bit more like Grantaire for the first time in his life, Enjolras unlocked his door. Adjusting and rechecking first, he stepped back from his door and turned the knob. Pulling the door slowly, and then all at once, he opened it to the packed hallway. _I’m going to faint_ , he thought. Every member of the party was there, outside his door, and waiting like an episode of _What Not to Wear_ , they began to cheer. Every one of the Amis clapped, laughed and rushed to pull in out into the party. _Unconscious, I’m going to go unconscious_. He wobbled on unsteady feet that pinched in the high heels, and pulled the skirt down to cover an extra half inch of his pale thighs. Combefere, now the same height as him, held his elbow tightly, and Enjolras held back. Across the flat, with a beer in hand, Grantaire waited, leaning lazily against a couch.

“Looking good, Apollo,” he whispered, grinning like a child on Christmas and taking a sip of his beer. He set it on the counter and walked toward a very uncomfortable looking Enjolras near the kitchen. R had to look up to meet Enjolras’ eyes, now, but it was work it. His blond eyelashes looked ten times longer with the mascara on, and that wasn’t the end of it.

“We need to do something about these costumes they’re selling to women,” Enjolras said, breathlessly. “I think I’m going to break my ankles. And,” he shook his head, causing the paper hat to fall into his face. Grantaire reached forward and put it back in place. “It’s crazy to expect a perso-.”

“We’ll add it to the list, Apollo. Or should I say Prometheus?” Enjolras fell onto Grantaire, but not before giving him a quizzical look. “Because you’re bringing the _fire_!” Grantaire whispered, then burst into laughter at his own joke.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he had to laugh, as well. His feet were cramped already, and the least he could do was loose the heels, so he did; along with his mind. Eponine sashayed by with a toga dragging behind her bare feet, shooting a sweet smile at Enjolras. _I’m too old for this Halloween crap_.


End file.
